All I Needed
by DizzyAlice
Summary: Stan never would've guessed that after months without talking to the SBF and a semester at college he'd come home to find everything just as he left it. One-shot, SxK


**All I Needed**  
><em>A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice<em>

A/N: Long time no see, guys... Anyways this was written for a Secret Santa over on tumblr, so I actually finished it about two weeks ago but I couldn't post it till now. The prompt was "A party in the woods goes bad." Enjoy!  
>(This is a one-shot)<p>

* * *

><p>It's fucking freezing out, not that that's unusual for a December night in Colorado. Still, I'm not used to the cold, and it certainly doesn't mean I want to be trudging through the snowy woods right now with no clue where we're even going.<p>

"Kenny, where the hell is this party, anyways?" I call to the figure in front of me, only visible thanks to the vivid orange of his parka.

"We're almost there," he calls back, not bothering to turn. And, sure enough, a few minutes later we break into a large clearing, which is already filled with our former classmates milling about. It's the first time I've seen so many of them in once place since graduation. It's a bit disorienting, how similar and yet different everyone looks after only a half a year. I can't help but wonder what I look like through their eyes.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts as Kenny presses a can of beer into my hands, before cracking his own open.

"To home," he cheers, raising his can. I repeat his words and clink my can against his. We both take deep gulps.

When we finish, I notice his eyes stuck at a point in the crowd. I follow his gaze and know immediately who he's staring at.

Because there's Kyle, clutching his own can and talking animatedly to Jimmy. I didn't think it was possible for the Ivy League to change him, but there's something in the bags under his eyes and his slumped shoulders that was never there before.

Not that I would know. I haven't spoken to Kyle in four months. Not since I left for school.

"He hates me, doesn't he," I muse, more to myself than Kenny.

Nonetheless Kenny claps me on the back, giving me a gap-toothed grin of reassurance. "Nah. It's Kyle, man. He might be pissed, but he could never hate you."

Kenny's wrong, I know he is. I know from the voicemails. All those unanswered recordings of Kyle's voice on my phone, worried at first, then angry, and finally defeated. Before he stopped leaving them altogether. The last one is from a month ago, wondering if I would be home for Thanksgiving, and suggesting we get together and have a talk if I was.

After I avoided him all break he gave up for good.

I never actually told Kenny why I've been hiding from Kyle, but I think he has his suspicions. Either way, I'm grateful he doesn't judge me for it.

"Hey," I say, wanting to get my mind off shit. "Let's race."

"You're on," he grins. We count off and both proceed to chug our beers as fast as we can. Kenny, of course, wins. But my insides feel a bit warmer, and now I have something other than Kyle to blame the nausea on.

Kenny is distracted now, checking out some girl I'm not sure if I recognize, so I leave him to get another can of beer.

"Stan?" pipes a high-pitched voice. I whirl around to see Wendy smiling up at me. Ah, Wendy. The girl of my childhood dreams. The one I was convinced I would marry someday.

Shit, was I clueless back then. How did it take me so long to realize?

In high school Wendy was a fair-weather friend at best. The occasional study buddy and not much more. It's not that I disliked her. She's a very nice girl. We just came to realize that we never had much in common. Separate friends, separate goals, separate lives.

"Hey, Wendy," I reply with a smile. "How have you been?"

"I've been good, yeah. School is tough. I have to say, I don't think our high school teachers did the best job preparing us for college." She rolls her eyes and I snort. South Park isn't exactly known for its education system. They just really lucked out with our year, having not one but two kids land Ivy League schools. Kyle and Wendy both definitely got there on their own, though. "How's Arizona? That's where you ended up, right?"

"Yeah, it's good. I like it." I didn't really know what else to say. College was great. I enjoyed it. That's all there is to it.

"God, I haven't heard from you in ages. It's like you dropped off the face of the earth after graduation."

"Yeah, um." I fidget as she examines me, searching for a reason behind my disappearance. "I've been busy. Kind of… lost touch."

It's not that I wanted to turn my back on everything and everyone when I left. Just Kyle. But I had begun to realize something in the process: Kyle _was_ my life in South Park. I couldn't leave him behind without sacrificing the rest, as well.

Wendy frowns, but before she can say anything else, Bebe appears to drag her away. "Bye, Stan, it was nice to see you!" she calls. I simply give a noncommittal wave.

The next few hours go in about the same manner. Everyone gets increasingly drunk and increasingly loud. I begin to remember why I didn't mind hiding in Arizona – I kind of really hate most of my former classmates. Craig is a dick. Clyde is too bitchy. Token is pretentious. The girls – fuck, don't even get me started.

I look around for Kenny, but he seems to have disappeared. Probably off hooking up with the girl from earlier. I don't want to hear about what everyone's been doing since graduation, about the great times they've had at college and how they're so happy to be home. So instead I grab yet another beer and hide in the shadows at the edge of the clearing, debating whether I should just fuck it and go home.

I down half my beer in one gulp, then shut my eyes in an effort to fend off the nausea. I shouldn't have even come to this stupid thing. I don't know why I let Kenny talk me into it. It would've been a much better night if I had just stayed home and played video games and let Shelley beat me up.

I'm drawn out of my thoughts by footsteps crunching through the thin layer of snow and leaves, stopping in front of me. I don't want to open my eyes. Maybe if I keep them shut I can pretend I'm not here.

"Stan," he snaps, and I cringe, opening my eyes.

"Fuck, Kyle, now is not a good time for this, okay?"

He's glaring up at me, arms crossed, looking positively livid. I want to shrink back into the forest behind me and disappear. I want to throw up. But more than anything, I want him to stop looking at me like that.

"Is there ever going to be a good time for it?" he demands. I don't answer. "Stop avoiding me like a pussy and just tell me what your fucking problem is."

"I'm not – I haven't been avoiding you," I mumble, looking away. "I've just been busy."

"Bullshit." I glance back up and he looks even more pissed, which I didn't think was even possible. "This is bad enough without you lying to me, too."

I find myself locked in a stare-down with him, and my traitorous heart starts accelerating to dangerous speeds, and I realize all my efforts have been in vain. I stopped seeing him, stopped talking to him, stopped thinking about him. Removed him from my life as much as I possibly could. I thought I was over this. Thought I was over _him_. But here he is, standing in front of me, and every feeling I had told myself was gone are rushing back at full force.

I can't help but laugh at my own stupidity. It's a hysterical, deranged-sounding chortle that makes his anger slip a bit, replaced with confusion and concern.

"God, I'm such a fucking idiot," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Thinking I could ever forget you so easily."

"Stan, what do you–"

His words are cut off by a sudden burst of chaos on the opposite end of the clearing. People are yelling at each other and running, scattering off into the woods in all directions.

"What's going on?" I wonder, craning my neck in an attempt to catch sight of the cause of the sudden madness. Kyle is looking, too. He sees it first.

"We gotta get out of here," he says, turning back to me with panicked eyes.

"What?"

"Cops, Stan. Someone called the fucking cops!"

The next thing I know we're running. He's dragging me along behind him as we dodge trees and rocks, trying to get as far away from the clearing as we can. It hasn't registered to me what we are running from, or towards. But for the first time in months I feel exhilarated. Free. Dare I say _happy_? I grin, and I clutch tighter to Kyle's hand, and I keep running. The frigid air is searing my lungs and I have a stitch in my side but I keep running.

There's nothing but the blur of trees and Kyle's hand, warm in mine. And it's beautiful.

And then he trips and we both go down. "Fuck," he whispers. I grin. He chuckles. Then we're both cracking up. Then I'm hiding my face on his shoulder, hoping he won't notice that my laughs have turned to dry sobs.

Finally I calm down, and then it gets really quiet. We're alone in the middle of the fucking woods, and all I can hear is our breathing and the wind in the trees. Maybe if I keep my face hidden against his warm jacket, I can go back to how it used to be. When we were just best friends and everything was okay.

But we were never _just_ best friends, were we? Wendy and Bebe were best friends. Craig and Clyde were best friends. Kyle and I… we had always been something more than that. We were _super_ best friends. And I had always loved him.

"Shit, Stan," he sighs. "What are we doing?"

"Being idiots?" I mumble into his jacket. He lets out a bitter chuckle.

After a pause, he continues. "Man, I don't want you to feel like you have to hide stuff from me. I thought we were better than that. But that's what you've been doing, isn't it? You've been hiding?"

I sit up so I can look him in the eye. He doesn't look angry anymore, just… exhausted. "Yeah," I say, my voice strained. "Yeah, I've been hiding."

"From what? What the hell is this big secret that's too horrible to share?"

I snort and look away. "Christ, Kyle, you go to Brown. I thought you were supposed to be smart." He opens his mouth to snap at that, but thinks better of it.

"Come on, dude," he says instead. "I just want to know what I did that could make you hate me so much."

"Seriously?" My voice raises an octave in exasperation. "Are you that fucking dense? I don't hate you, Kyle. Quite the opposite, actually. _That's_ why I've been ignoring you."

His brows knit together in obvious confusion. My stomach is churning, because now I know I'll have to tell him. This is something I've been holding in for far too long. And, hell, my main concern was that it would fuck up our friendship, but I've already gone and done that, so really, what else do I have to lose?

The thought doesn't quell my terror in the slightest.

"Look, Kyle," I sigh. "I was hoping that by leaving for college and cutting you off, I could forget about you. I could forget about the way you make my heart skip, the way you make my stomach churn, the electricity that radiates every time you touch me. I don't want to have this sickening urge to hold you close and never let go every time you're near me. I don't want to have to spend my life pining over someone that can never be mine.

"But it didn't work. I convinced myself that it did, that I was over you. I thought the feelings were gone. But seeing you here, tonight, it all resurfaced.

"And it made me realize something: I don't think I'll ever be able to stop loving you."

I want him to reply. He just stares at me, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. I swallow loudly.

And then he lets out a hysteric laugh, his eyes glistening. "God, Stan, you are such a fucking _douchebag_!" he chokes, making me flinch.

I knew this would happen. He hates me now. Fucking great.

"I should probably go," I mumble, starting to get up. He grabs my wrist and drags me back down.

"Don't you fucking go anywhere," he growls, and his voice is so deep and threatening that I don't protest. "I have been so careful – so _fucking_ careful – to hide the way I felt around you. I have been forcing away and shoving down my feelings for years because I decided I would rather have you as just a friend than not at all. And what do you do? Fucking go off to college and proceed to fall off the face of the earth. Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? How heartbroken I was? You were my entire _life_ for eighteen years, since the second I met you, and all of a sudden you're just tossing me away like I'm nothing. I just – I – you could have just told me."

Now it's my turn to sit, dumbfounded. I was confused by his anger. And he was being kind of vague. But…

"Wait, so, what you're saying is–"

"Yes, Stan, that's what I'm fucking saying."

And then his lips are colliding hard with mine. And I can hardly react because it feels like my chest has burst and I can't believe that this is actually happening. I've spent the last four months trying to erase him from my life, but now his tongue is in my mouth and my fingers are gripping his jacket and I don't think I could let go even if I wanted to.

I have spent my entire life fantasizing about this moment, and never did I expect it to be this fucked-up or this perfect.

He pulls away to look at me and I can't help the stupid grin on my face. He smiles back and strokes my cheek with one hand.

"God, you're an idiot," he whispers.

"I'm really sorry, Kyle. It probably wasn't the best way to go about dealing with the situation."

"Whatever. You have plenty of time to make it up to me."

It takes us a long time to stop kissing and realize we're completely lost in the middle of the woods and it's kind of fucking freezing out. It takes us even longer to care. Eighteen years of bottled-up emotions finally spilling over will do that. But at some point we begin to stumble through the trees, until at some point we finally stumble out to the road, which we manage to follow back into town. It's about four in the morning at this point, and Kyle remarks about how his mother is going to absolutely murder him. I can't help but laugh because that it one thing that will never change.

We pause at our converging streets, where we'll have to part ways. I look at him and he raises his eyes to the sky.

"It's going to snow," he says.

"How do you know?"

"I can just feel it." He looks back at me and grins. I smile back. I still can't believe I managed to go a whole four months without that smile. Worst decision I've ever made.

"Look, I'm sorry again for–"

"Stan. Stop apologizing." He wraps his arms tight around my waist. "It's in the past. It was a misunderstanding. Move on, yeah?"

"Sure." My arms sling over his shoulders.

Because what's done is done, and it can't be taken back. No matter how hard we try, we can't forget things. And every mistake is a learning experience. My mistake made me learn that I never have and never will love anyone the way that I love Kyle. Because he's my super best friend, my partner in crime, my other half.

And as the first flakes of snow begin to fall, just like Kyle predicted, I know that it's okay to trust him with my heart. No matter what stupid things I do, no matter how many times I leave him, he will always wait for me to come to my senses.

Right now all that exists is the snow melting on his cheeks and the warmth of his lips on mine. Maybe that's all I'll ever need.

**The end.**


End file.
